Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Just sittin’ around on a Saturday morning, pretending to smoke a fat cigar, while I wait for my pa-in-law to show up to give me a blessing. Tie o’ the Day clashes with Shirt o’ the Day, much like the cigar is juxtaposed with the idea of a blessing. Clash should go beyond fashion. Clashy living leads to seeing the world from perspectives you never thought possible. You learn to live with questions, which leads to thinking. And that leads to living a life of thinking AND thoughtfulness.
Not-Tie o’ the Day. Father’s Day and Dad’s birthday were this month. I had a difficult time posting about him this year. Dad’s been gone 10 years, and I still miss his bald head. This pic of my beekeeper dad was snapped long before I was born. I’ve titled it, ST. RON OF THE BEES. I don’t remember what I was being punished for as a kid once, but Dad kicked my butt with his work boots. He did it so softly only my pride got hurt.
Bow Tie o’ the Day exudes affection– for Suzanne, who I am infinitely grateful for. Suzanne is the coolest, smartest, funniest, silliest, kindest, cutest, patient-est, generous-est, surprising-est person I’ve ever met. We probably all think the same about the person we love. In fact, it occurs to me that if you don’t feel those things about your person, you shouldn’t be hooked-up with them at all. Don’t settle for anyone except your soulmate. I didn’t. I married up, as they say. I got beyond what I deserve.
Tie o’ the Day and I are debating about my head hairs. The longer side of my mop falls in my eyes, and I like it this way. I’ve got rubber bands to create a side pigtail if I need one. But I think hair-in-eyes might be annoying while I’m at Huntsman. I could get my usual trim-and-shave before I go hospitaling. However, lately I’m thinking about growing all my hairs out into a longer style. I’m asking for your assistance. VOTE! To cut, or not to cut? 🤔
I’m the one in Bow (Tie) o’ the Day in my kindergarten class photo. It’s sort of a Colonel Sanders-esque bow tie. Again, it’s proof my love for every species of tie was born early. You can’t tell, but I am wearing a dress. Mom made all my dresses, cuz store-bought dresses tended to not have pockets, and I could not abide not having pockets. I was not happy if I couldn’t carry pencils, pens, a small notebook, Chapstick and Lemonheads– the basics of my entire life.
It’s just Bow Tie o’ the Day, Skitter, and me at home for the next week. The Tie Room is full of its residents too, but it’s not the same as having Suzanne with us. I took her to the airport, and now she’s off to Orlando for work. She will get home late Wednesday, only a few hours before my surgery. Bow Tie and I are incredibly sad because we will be freaking out for days about my upcoming operation, all by our lonely selves. 😱 🙀
Batman Bow Tie o’ the Day reflects my feeling that Mom is a royal superhero, deserving of her own comic book series. She even performs her superhero-ness without a cape or invisible airplane. The Porch at my Delta house was her private social club. It was as if she saved the world, from The Porch. Her glider was her throne at least twice per day, and she let you know what she thought about any topic– politics, religion, or whatever. Kindness was her main Porch topic and philosophy.
Neckwear o’ the Day loves Shakespeare plays, especially A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. Shauna Corry, Richard Jackson, and I were among DHS students who performed MIDSUMMER scenes, in 1979. I was Puck– a spritely, mischief-making soul. Fred Adams– DHS graduate, and founder of The Utah Shakespeare Festival– loaned us costumes for the production. The Puck costume he brought me was a loincloth. ONLY a loin cloth. We scrounged up wardrobe additions. I would’ve been fine with wearing just the loincloth if I’d been allowed to wear strategically placed neckwear. 😜
This post’s gotta be about socks, and I PROMISE this is true. While I was laundry-ing, a lightning bolt laundry event occurred. I was casually minding my own business–not committing sorcery or magic– while folding a batch of socks, and this is what I got: SIX– count ’em– SIX mateless socks. On occasion, we all end up with one, possibly two, lonely socks after we’ve retrieved a load from the dryer. But catching six of ’em at once is like performing a backwards miracle. SIX-PACK O’ THE DAY!
If you wanna have one more handlebar mustache than Bow Tie o’ the Day presents, do this. I’m not positive I can ride my bike with my face this low, but I’ll try. My neighbors will be intrigued, but not surprised, if they see me doing it. They’ll appreciate the weirdness, then say to themselves, “Well, I guess she’s doing a new, interesting thing.” Then they’ll go back to their tasks. To them, my schtick is like the mountains outside our windows: just part of the splendor-y landscape. ⛰